


name, age, social security number

by ProfessionalMess



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bar/Club, Developing Friendships, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, First Kiss, M/M, Sleepovers, Stargazing, Strangers to Friends, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, a little inspired by the perks of being a wallflower, basically me just wishing i had friends, but sometimes its good, for the klance, for the squad, just a little klance, mostly squad bonding, past trauma uwu, the universe is mostly bad, unsafe driving practices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 09:44:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19248655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessionalMess/pseuds/ProfessionalMess
Summary: “You look like you could use this,” the body said, shaking the bottle a little. Keith flicked his eyes upward and stole a glance at the stranger, gleaning an overwhelming amount of information in the bare second he was looking. Keith reached up slowly and took the bottle from the man standing in front of him—maybe a little too close—and was surprised when his hands weren’t shaking. Figures; the one night he didn’t sit in his regular seat, he was approached by a stranger.





	name, age, social security number

**Author's Note:**

> i've been working on this for a fat minute and it's finally done bc my friend [olivia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsformetoknow/pseuds/thatsformetoknow) forced me to finish it so u can thank her
> 
>  
> 
> also surprise i made a whole ass [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/74v9sR6bihuTEKJTO3oTj5) to go along bc this fic has a lot of vibes for me so listen to it if u want

Clubs.

 

Keith  _ hated  _ clubs. He wasn't even sure if where he currently was could be considered one, but it was either a club or a really busy bar and either way, it was a horrible place to be. 

 

Was he here with friends or people he knew? No. Was he here to meet people and make friends? No. Was he here to drink? Extra no. He was here simply because his past was here. 

 

He used to have friends that came here, and he used to have a boyfriend that loved this place—and although he didn’t have either of those things anymore, he still had the bar, and he found himself here more often than he wanted to admit, hoping he might catch a glimpse of them. He never had, but he unfortunately had nowhere better to be on a Friday night.

 

The bar/club/whatever it was wasn’t much. It was on the outskirts of downtown, located in a building that closely resembled a sad attempt to modernize a crumbling old factory. The walls had been given a thick coat of black paint, the speakers and lights had been tied up on the support beams of the ceiling, and the floor was interspersed with gaudy black leather furniture pieces and thin metal tables, the bar obviously crafted from cheap wood and serving as the purchasing point for even cheaper beer. 

 

There was absolutely nothing special about the place. It was actually one of the worst bars in town, well-known for being seedy and sketchy and somewhat rampant with violence if you visited the wrong corner or the wrong back alley. But Keith had been coming here every weekend for years; he knew all the places he should avoid, all the people he should avoid direct eye contact with. It was one of the only constants he had in his life, actually, and it never failed to disturb him just enough to forget about his problems for a while.

 

He never really drank here—he didn’t like losing control over his mind nor did he trust getting drunk in a place like this—and the bartender always glared at him for it, but other than that, people left him alone. No one offered him sex, no one offered him a drink, no one offered him a shoulder to cry on or an ear to talk to. He liked it that way. He was almost allowed to disappear here, allowed to become someone who was just enough of something to fade into nothing. 

 

It was, bottom-line, the only nice thing about coming here. He just sat in the sticky leather chairs and thought, sat and pitied himself and wallowed in failed events of his past, all while wondering if he’d be allowed to have a future. Nothing was expected of him, no one knew him, and no one wanted to. And yet, when he was here, pressed this close to so many people, he could still imagine that he wasn’t completely alone. 

 

That said, he found himself to be particularly grumpy tonight. The place was even busier than usual, and it had taken him longer to arrive than normal because his stupid Uber driver had gotten lost, and when he’d stepped through the door the first thing he saw was that someone had stolen his favorite observation spot—wedged deep in the corner, the farthest from the dance floor as he could get and slightly elevated for a good vantage point. In that spot, his back was to a wall so no one could sneak up on him, and there was only a chair on his left instead of on both sides, and in all the nights he’d sat in it, no one had ever, even once, approached him or looked at him or even breathed or thought in his direction. It was wonderful.

 

But tonight, he’d been uprooted. The only other section of seating that came close was arguably the largest section available, which made Keith slightly nervous. However, there was a chair facing the dance floor that helped form a sort of circle with a couple other couches and chairs and, surely, if Keith sat in an area obviously meant for large parties all by himself, no one would bother him, right? It was the next best thing.

 

He made the journey across the floor fairly painlessly, well accustomed to weaving between pulsing hoards of dampened bodies and wild, gesticulating limbs without a scratch. There were a couple people here that he recognized, which was disheartening. He didn’t  _ know  _ them, but he could place a few faces as ones that he’d seen before, however many times. The club was a largely unchanging beast, and Keith was just another piece of it just like everyone else here, no matter how much it pained him to put himself in the same category as the tawdry souls that filled the floor. He came here every weekend just like they did, and he was just as desperate for something in his life that he could call his, even if he never acted on his desires. Besides buckets more of self-control and a classier wardrobe, Keith wasn’t very different from them at all.  

 

It was always unbearably hot within the walls but tonight the air was sticky with some unknown impurity, and the cushiony leather under him was shaped differently than his usual chair, only adding to his foul mood. It just didn’t cup his ass like it was supposed to, how was he supposed to be happy with that? Not to mention that he was reminded, once again, that he was essentially here for no reason. Sure, it allowed him to sulk like an emo teen with no sense of self, but he had absolutely no obligation, moral or otherwise, to be here. So why did he keep coming back? Surely this wasn’t the only place in town where he could repress his feelings.

 

He could feel the bartender staring at him, waiting for him to order a drink, and he could feel the crowd pressing in around him, his chair just a few feet away from the pulsing dance floor. The music itself he could hardly hear, but the crowd moved in such a way that Keith figured he could deduce what the beat was like if he wanted to. He didn’t want to, though. In fact, he had turned his chair around to face the wall and deliberately block out the mass of people writhing at his back. He couldn’t people watch when he was facing this way, but he couldn't very well do that at his current altitude, anyway. All he could see was the wall of bodies closest to him, and absolutely nothing beyond. It was less distracting and less frustrating to face the wall. 

 

The particular section of the bar he was in was completely empty. It was a part that was wholly dedicated to seating, and Keith was apparently the only loser in the whole damn club who would rather sit in a chair than grind on a stranger. It was fine with him, really. It meant that he could sit and stare at the wall and not have to worry about awkwardly avoiding eye contact, meant he could avoid the stare of the bartender and pretend he wasn’t moping. 

 

Perhaps, if everything stayed just like this, it wouldn’t be a horrible night after all. Then, he could spend the entire next week of his life contemplating if he really ever wanted to come back. 

 

It was unlike Keith to let his guard down here, but he was lost in his thoughts and didn’t hear the footsteps scuffing on the floor behind him, which meant he almost jumped out of his chair when something solid knocked into his shoulder. He was still recovering from a heart attack when a deep brown glass bottle appeared in front of his face, accompanied by an arm with skin a more gentle, mocha shade of brown. He stared at the bottle, afraid to glance up at the body attached to it. The body didn’t seem to notice, carrying on with whatever it had planned to say. 

 

“You look like you could use this,” the body said, shaking the bottle a little. Keith flicked his eyes upward and stole a glance at the stranger, gleaning an overwhelming amount of information in the bare second he was looking. Keith reached up slowly and took the bottle from the man standing in front of him—maybe a little too close—and was surprised when his hands weren’t shaking. Figures; the one night he didn’t sit in his regular seat, he was approached by a stranger. 

 

Never in his twenty-four years of life had this happened. 

 

Keith followed the man with his eyes as he moved to sit in the seat to Keith’s left with a huff, unwilling to pull his gaze away from the man’s face in fear he’d disappear if he did. He couldn’t quite believe that this was happening—not only that he was interacting with someone else in this bar for the first time in years but that he was interacting with the most attractive person he’d ever seen within these walls the entire time he’d been coming here. Was this the stranger’s first time here, or had Keith just missed him somehow?

 

The stranger was holding a bottle of his own, gripped loosely in his hand where it was resting on his knee.

 

“How do I know you didn’t poison it?” Keith asked suspiciously, remembering the semi-conversation they’d been having and scrutinizing the beer he’d been handed very closely. 

 

The man shrugged, raising his own beer to his lips and yanking the cap off with his teeth in one fluid motion. While somewhat impressed, Keith was pretty sure the lids were twist-off. “It’s not open yet. Figure it’d be pretty hard to poison something without opening it.”

 

Keith wrapped his fingers around the lid (which was, in fact, a twist-off) and tested it, confirming that it was still firmly in place. He wasn’t going to drink it anyway, but it was the principle of the matter that he was concerned about. He didn’t want to hang around people who poisoned other people’s drinks, no matter how good-looking they were. He twisted his lid off for the sake of appearances and flicked it onto the floor, frowning when the roar of the crowd swallowed the resounding metallic  _ ping. _

 

The man stretched his arm across the small gap in between them and offered the neck of his beer, smiling brightly. “Cheers?” Keith met him halfway, clinking the glasses together just enough to make a sound, although it was one he could barely hear over the din of the surrounding atmosphere. 

 

“To what?” he asked, pulling his arm back to his body as the stranger did the same. 

 

He shrugged. “To smelly bars and sweaty strangers,” he suggested, tipping his head and raising his bottle before bringing it to his lips and taking a swift drink. Keith lifted his own bottle and took the barest of sips, wincing at the bland taste. Ugh, beer fit the atmosphere of this place  _ wonderfully. _

 

“Fair enough,” he answered when he was done, settling the bottle on his thigh. He wondered if the stranger would say anything about the fact that he was just holding it and not actually drinking any of it. The man tucked his own bottle between his legs and pulled his backwards-facing snapback off, ducking his head and running his hands through his short, sweaty, almost curly brown hair.

 

“God, it’s hot in here,” he muttered, almost to himself as he resettled the hat on his head. When he raised his arms, Keith could see the smallest sliver of his tanned chest through the widened sleeves of his tank top, and when he trailed his eyes down he realized he could see even more of his wonderful, trimmed chest via the sizable chunk of the shirt that was missing. A crop top. Keith hadn’t noticed the crop top the first time.

 

He let his gaze trail quicky over the rest of the stranger’s attire, shivering a little as he took in the little hairs poking out from the sides of his hat around his ears and the details of his exposed chest and arms, as well as the teasing hints of beautiful brown skin poking through the rips in his light-wash jean shorts and the sculpted shape of his thighs and calves. Keith was pretty sure he’d never met such an attractive person in his entire life, and it was more distracting than he would’ve liked to admit.  

 

Keith felt underdressed in his t-shirt and black skinny jeans in comparison, even though the club wasn’t even close to having a dress code and it wasn’t really something he’d ever cared about before. If there was one thing Keith was confident in, sure of, it was his body—simply because he could feel it, see it, touch it. He was fond of things that were sure, didn’t like to play guessing games. His emotions and his thoughts were something unknown, something uncontrollable, an unreliable wild card. His body, however, was easy to understand. Feed it the right things, take care of it the right way, keep up with the things it needed, and it would do what Keith expected. He could reach out a hand and touch his leg and know what it was, know what it was for, but the things inside his head weren’t like that. He’d always made it a point to try and hold onto whatever confidence he could, so that came from the parts of him that were stuck on the outside. 

 

Keith stared with slightly widened eyes as the man ran his hands over his face next, the sweat shimmering on his skin when it caught the club lighting just right. Why, oh  _ why  _ did Keith have to realize how appealing this man was? It caused a whole  _ slew _ of problems that he didn’t want to acknowledge right now.

 

“Too many people,” Keith muttered in response, tipping his head back and staring at the industrial looking support beams of the ceiling that had been painted black like the rest of the walls. The stranger hummed in agreement, raising his bottle to his lips as Keith brought their gazes level again. Keith watched his throat move as he swallowed, feeling his own mouth go dry. Fuck. His unhappy past was supposed to outweigh the part of his mind that was thirsty and gay; what the  _ hell  _ was he doing? He’d come here to  _ mope,  _ he  _ always  _ came here to mope. 

 

“Name?” 

 

The man had finished his drink without Keith noticing and was now looking at him, an eyebrow raised in inquisition. Keith stared back at him, feeling his face flush. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked what his name was, and it was honestly throwing him for a loop. How did people normally act in these situations? What if he didn’t want this man to know his name? What if he made fun of it or something? Keith was a fairly normal name, but suddenly anything was a possibility, a reason to keep his mouth shut instead of blurting his name like his lips so badly wanted to. 

 

He resisted the urge to twirl a lock of hair around his finger like he normally did when he was nervous and instead settled for clenching the body of his beer bottle tightly and stuttering out an answer. “It’s, uh, K-Keith.”

 

“Keith,” he repeated, nodding appreciatively as he traced the small rim of his bottle with the tip of his finger. “It suits you.”

 

Keith blushed, his eyes wide as he flickered them over to look at the brim of the strangers hat, just barely peeking out from behind his head. “Uh, thanks,” he said awkwardly, lifting his beer again and pretending to take a drink. He didn’t want to seem rude; he  _ had _ been given this beer for free, even if he had no plans on ingesting any alcohol tonight. 

 

The man must have gotten the hint that conversation wasn’t Keith’s strong suit because he stayed quiet after that, seeming just as content to sit in companionable silence. Keith found himself picking up the sounds from around them instead, grimacing when all he heard was heavy breathing and grunting and high-pitched moans that made his skin crawl. God, he really needed to find a new place to hang out. 

 

Keith didn’t know how long they sat there before there was more shuffling from behind Keith and another stranger came into his vision, dragging her feet as she walked. She looked more like she was going to the gym than going to a club, dressed in baggy dark grey sweats and a muscle tank with the sleeves ripped almost all the way to the hem of her pants, her black sports bra visible underneath. One side of her head was shaved and Keith wouldn’t have been surprised to learn it had been an impulse decision; she seemed like the kind that made decisions like that a lot.

 

“This seat taken?” she asked, gesturing to the identical black leather couch across from the one Keith was currently sat on. 

 

“Nope,” the man answered cheerily. She flopped down heavily as soon as the word was out of his mouth, letting out a sigh and resting her head on the back of the couch. Keith and the man stared at her for a few moments before Keith cleared his throat and stretched his arm across the gap, offering her his warming beer. She took it from him gratefully, taking a  _ long  _ drink. 

 

“Rough week?” the man asked, smiling at her knowingly. She swished her mouthful of beer in her cheeks for a second before swallowing it and groaning, letting her limbs flop. 

 

“Rough isn’t a strong enough word,” she answered, staring at the ceiling. Keith narrowly stopped himself from nodding somberly; he could relate to that one. 

 

It was silent for a few more seconds before the man leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and dangling his beer between his legs. “Name?” 

 

The girl looked his way without moving her head, looking him over before she gave her answer, much quicker than Keith imagined he gave his. She already seemed more willing to humor the man’s conversations than Keith had been, and their conversation hadn’t even really begun yet. 

 

“Pidge,” she said. “Well, technically Katie, but everyone I know calls me Pidge. I don’t remember where it came from.” Keith got the feeling that she  _ did  _ know where it came from, but it wasn’t the type of story you randomly shared with strangers.

 

“Age?” he continued smoothly, not stopping to comment.

 

“Twenty-two.”

 

“Pronouns?”

 

“She/her.”

 

“Sexuality?”

 

Pidge gave him a small smile, shrugging her shoulders. “Who the fuck knows?” 

 

The man snorted after that answer, shaking his head as he gave her a grin. Keith watched on with interest, eyes flicking between the two of them as they spoke.

 

“Social Security Number?” 

 

“ Www.1-800-your-mom ,” Pidge answered as she returned his grin, although her’s was considerably more lazy than his. 

 

“Alcohol preferences?”

 

“Hard liquor. And wine. Sometimes both; it’s a good way to get the flavor profile of the wine mixed with alcohol content of hard liquor, without as much sugar like in mixed drinks. It’s also fun go to wine tasting events with a bunch of old people and pretend I know something about wine, other than the fact that it makes me feel like an adult when I drink it and it doesn’t taste oily like gin does.”

 

The man nodded contemplatively, pursing his lips. “I personally think wine tastes like perfume, but I can see where you’re coming from. It’d be so much fun to mess with old people.”

 

“It really is fulfilling in an indescribable way,” Pidge said wistfully, taking another drink. “What about you?” 

 

The question was obviously direction at the stranger; Keith wasn’t even sure Pidge had really registered his presence yet, especially since he hadn’t said anything since she came over. 

 

“I like whiskey and rum,” the man answered, leaning back again. “The closer it is to tasting like dirt and wood, the more I like it. Beer’s an okay substitute if there’s nothing else, but I really could live without drinking it.” As soon as he finished talking, he took another swig.

 

“You’re one of those rugged, manly men, hmm?” Pidge asked, rolling her head to face him and smiling playfully. The man rolled his eyes, smiling back. 

 

“Nah, I just eat too much sugar in everything else I shove down my throat, so when I drink I always crave something different.”

 

“Understandable,” Pidge hummed. 

 

“So, what brings you here?”

 

She blew out a breath, shaking stray strands of short, coppery hair out of her face. “My brother dropped me off because I need to ‘explore the town’ more. I pretty much divide my time between my apartment and school, so he forced me into his car and drove me here and pushed me out and said he’d come back if I texted him. But I had to stay for two hours first.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out her phone, squinting at the time. “I’ve only been here for thirty-two minutes.”

 

Keith couldn’t help it; he snorted. Of all of the places to explore, her brother had brought her  _ here. _ “This is probably the worst place he could have possibly taken you.” 

 

They both seemed to perk up at the sound of his voice, tilting their heads in his direction. 

 

“Are you and this place well acquainted?” Pidge questioned, narrowing her eyes curiously. Keith flushed, suddenly realizing that he’d accidentally pulled himself into the conversation.

 

He shrugged, lacing his fingers together in his lap. “I suppose you could say that. I come here every week.”

 

The man to his left choked on his drink, coughing into his fist as he stared at Keith with wide eyes.  _ “Every week?”  _ he asked once he caught his breath, his voice weak. “Why on earth would you do that?”

 

Keith shrugged again, his cheeks warm. Just like Pidge and her nickname, it wasn’t a story for strangers. “I guess I just really hate myself,” he said instead, watching as Pidge nodded solemnly and the man took another slow drink. 

 

“Damn, I guess,” he said once he’d successfully swallowed his next mouthful. 

 

It was about this time that Keith looked up and noticed someone else approaching behind Pidge, lumbering slowly in their direction. He kept his eye on whoever it was as they drew closer, scanning them up and down. It was a person that almost reminded Keith of a bear, but more like the soft, cuddly, stuffed version. His skin was a shade or two darker than the man’s next to him and his hair was darker and longer, too, visible for a few inches under the band of his beanie. His outfit was very simple; just a mustard yellow sweatshirt and jeans. Keith was pretty sure he would die if he was wearing a sweatshirt in a place this steamy.

 

Keith gave the newcomer a hesitant wave as he climbed over the back of the couch and slid onto the cushion next to Pidge. 

 

“Please tell me none of you are going to try to offer me drugs, sex, or a place to live for ‘real cheap’ which probably translates to ‘in exchange for sexual favors’,” he said, his voice tinged with exasperation. He was obviously newer here than Keith was; it was easy for him to pick out which areas and which people to avoid. It came with years of practice. 

 

“Nope,” Pidge answered, holding her hand out for him to shake without lifting her head. “I’m Pidge, and I… actually don’t know either of their names.”

 

“I’m Lance,” the man said, pointing to his own chest before swinging a finger towards him, “and that’s Keith.”

 

“Nice to meet you guys,” the newcomer said, slumping against the couch with a sigh. 

 

“Mind if I ask you a few questions?” Lance asked, quirking a brow. “They’re pretty tame.”

 

Lance was a surprisingly fitting name for him. It was never really something Keith had contemplated for a person before, but he couldn’t help but notice now. Lance. Lance, the pretty boy in the sweaty club on the smooth leather couch, so close yet so unattainable. 

 

“Shoot,” the newcomer said by way of invitation, copying Pidge and resting his head against the back of the couch, sliding his eyes shut. Keith couldn’t help but notice how big his hands were, large enough to easily wrap around his throat and completely deprive him of air, deprive him of life. He didn’t really want to know why that was what he was thinking of, although he was sure it had something to do with the grim atmosphere of this place. Better to be choked to death than to ever make the subconscious decision to return again.

 

“Name?” Lance began, settling into what seemed to be his standard line of questioning. 

 

“Hunk,” the stranger responded, his lower voice carrying nicely as an undercurrent to the waves of voices on the dance floor beyond them. 

 

“Age?” 

 

“Twenty-four.”

 

“Pronouns?” 

 

“He/him.”

 

“Sexuality?”

 

“Straight, which everyone tells me is my greatest flaw.” 

 

Lance let out a little laugh that made Keith’s heart clench, his eyes crinkled happily at the edges. “That remains to be seen. Social Security Number?”

 

“417-777-7777.”

 

“Another phone number,” Lance muttered, shaking his head in mock disappointment.  

 

“Hey, mine was a mix between a website and a phone number. It counts as variety,” Pidge argued. 

 

Lance shook his head again and continued. “Alcohol preferences?”

 

Hunk hummed in thought. “I don’t really have a preference as far as the liquid itself goes. I’ll drink anything you put in front of me, but I’d rather have it in the form of a shot. I like to drink it and be done; I don’t want to walk around with a cup in my hand, nursing a drink all night. I have better things to do with my hands.”

 

Pidge hummed suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows even though Hunk himself couldn’t see. It was implied. 

 

“Do feel free to enlighten us,” Lance encouraged with a small smirk. Hunk laughed lightly, pulling his head back up to grin at them. 

 

“It’s nothing like that. I just mean—it’s inconvenient to carry a cup around with you, and if you just take shots, it makes it less likely that someone had the chance to drug it or something. I like to constantly be on the move; I don’t have time to worry about where my drink is or who might have touched it while I was gone.”

 

“Understandable,” Pidge said again, lifting her head up as well to take a drink of the beer Keith had handed her. Keith caught sight of Hunk staring at her beer longingly and Lance shaking his, frowning at it, so he figured they probably needed more. Coincidentally, Keith needed a break to wrap his head around what had gone on over the past twenty minutes, so he figured he should offer.

 

“Do you guys want something to drink? I can go get it.”

 

Lance tipped the rest of his beer into his mouth and slammed the empty bottle on the table that sat between all of them, nodding his head. “Yes, please.”

 

Pidge gave an affirmative grunt without opening her eyes, and Hunk nodded hesitantly, shooting him a smile. “Yeah. If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it.”

 

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” Keith replied, albeit a little awkwardly. “I’ll be right back.”

 

He stood up quickly, turning his back on them as Lance said something that made them laugh. He briefly contemplated disappearing into the crowd and running away, never looking back and most importantly never coming back to this club, but he banished the idea as soon as it came. He didn't want to be rude, and all things considered he didn't actually hate what was happening. It was strange, sure, and several hundred feet outside of his comfort zone, but it was about time for things in his life to change. Besides, what was the likelihood he’d see any of these people again beyond tonight anyway?

 

The bartender glared at him the entire length of time it took him to approach the bar. Apparently, he’d gone one night too many without ordering alcohol. He still paid to get in, so what difference did it make to the club whether he drank or not? It wasn’t like he was robbing them of anything. The other people that frequented this place certainly made up the difference.

 

“What can I get for you?” the barkeep asked somewhat coldly once Keith came to a stop in front of him. The question made him snort; they literally only served beer. 

 

“Four beers, please,” Keith said, as politely as he could manage. He was surprised the bartender hadn’t made a comment about his lack of previous purchases. He was positive that he would.

 

“Payment, please?”  

 

“Put it on my tab,” Keith responded. That’s what the people on TV said, right?

 

“You don’t have a tab,” the bartender all but hissed, his eyes narrowing. He was  _ really  _ upset about the fact that Keith never bought beer from him, wasn’t he? Huh.

 

“Make one,” Keith said, tapping his hands on the surface of the bar. The bartender glared at him for a few more seconds before he turned away, stalking to the far end of the bar to take more orders. 

 

Keith had only been alone for about three seconds before he heard a giggle, felt someone brush past him, and heard a low  _ psst _ from his right. He turned his head slowly, quirking an eyebrow at the man beside him that was staring at him somewhat desperately, obviously the one who’d been trying to get his attention. 

 

He was tall, taller than Keith even when sitting down, and he had a scar across the bridge of his nose and a patch of white hair that hung over his forehead, longer than the dark, shaved sides and looking damp from the amount of sweat in the air. Keith could relate. He was wearing a black and white baseball tee that matched his hair and black skinny jeans with slits across the knees, and he was still just staring at Keith with wide, panicked eyes, gripping the edge of the bar tightly.

 

“Do you need something, dude?” Keith asked as nicely as he could, his eyebrow still raised. 

 

“I need you to help me,” the guy whispered, his eyes flicking behind Keith to scan the crowd. Keith had to lean closer to hear him.

 

“With what?”

 

“This girl won’t leave me alone,” he said, obviously distressed by this fact. He’d come to the wrong place, then. “She went to the bathroom, but she’ll be back soon. I need you to help get me away from her.”

 

“How?” Keith asked, furrowing his brows. 

 

“Uh, I don’t know. Just, uh. Okay, when she comes back, don’t look at me for a few seconds and then pretend you just noticed me, and that we like, are old friends or something?”

 

Keith paused, staring at him. “That’s a horrible plan.”

 

The man groaned, loosening his grip on the bar and letting his hands comb through his hair. “I know. Do you have a better idea?”

 

Keith paused again. The idea of him having a better plan was laughable. “Nope. Hopefully yours works.”

 

“God, I hope so,” he responded, sounding exhausted. Poor guy.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

“Takashi. Wait—uh, Shiro. Call me Shiro.”

 

“Okay. I’m Keith. Let me know—”

 

Shiro interrupted him by letting out a squeak, whipping his body around to face the bar so fast that Keith was surprised he didn't hear anything crack. That took care of what he was about to say, then. He turned back to the bar as well, picking at his fingernails and pretending to be oblivious to his surroundings as he felt a presence breeze past him, a giggle close behind. 

 

“Hey, Shiro,” a high-pitched voice cooed from beside him. Keith cringed on Shiro’s behalf. “Did you miss me?”

 

Keith decided he should step in as soon as possible, both so that Shiro didn't hate him and so that he didn't have to listen to anymore of it. He raised his head and looked over at them with his eyes wide, making the girl jump. “Shiro? Is that you?” he asked, trying to add the appropriate awed lilt to his voice. “Dude, I haven’t seen you in forever! How’ve you been, man?”

 

_ Damn.  _ That was pretty good. He sounded just like all the obnoxious assholes on TV. 

 

The girl looked confused as Shiro let a small grin overtake his face, looking incredibly relieved. “Hey, Keith. I’ve been pretty good. What are you doing here?”

 

Keith shrugged, panicking for a good answer. “Uh, you know, just here with some of the boys. They’d probably like to see you again, after all this time. You down for a little catch-up?”

 

This was probably the most successful although admittedly strange social interaction Keith had ever had, and he was incredibly proud of himself, even if this was something that he absolutely never imagined doing. Shiro looked like he appreciated it as well, and it made something in Keith’s chest swell. Is this what people meant when they said interaction was rewarding?

 

“Of course.” 

 

As soon as the words were out of Shiro’s mouth, the girl clinging to his arm pouted, batting her eyelashes at him. “But what about me? We were gonna have so much  _ fun.” _

 

“Sorry,” Shiro said with a grimace. “I’d love to see my old buddies again.”

 

The girl pulled her hands away and crossed them over her chest, letting out a  _ hmph.  _ “Fine. I’ll go find someone else to play with.”

 

Keith barely suppressed a grin at the unspoken “thank  _ god”  _ written across Shiro’s face and felt himself breathe a little easier once she had moved on, disappearing into the crowd. Two seconds later, a tray of beers slammed onto the counter in front of him, making Keith jump.

 

“Thanks for finally buying something,” the bartender muttered as Keith recovered from his second heart attack of the night. There it was, the comment. Keith said nothing in return as he slid the tray off the counter and turned to Shiro, jerking his head towards where the others were seated. 

 

“Come on, you can come hang with us.” Why not? Some otherworldly force was obviously sending a stream of people in Keith’s direction in the hopes he’d befriend one of them; who was he to resist?

 

Shiro let out a sigh of relief and slid off his stool, swiping his beer off the bar as he followed behind Keith, sticking close to him as they weaved through the crowd. The others looked up as they approached and Keith felt heat rising to his cheeks for some reason he couldn’t explain. 

 

“This is Shiro,” he said as he stopped behind his couch, gesturing with his elbow. 

 

“You guys are some of the most normal looking people I’ve seen all night. Mind if I sit?”

 

“Go ahead,” Pidge said as Lance scoffed lightly and said, “I resent that.”

 

“Sorry,” Shiro said with a small grin as he stepped around the end of the couch and sat next to Keith’s empty seat. 

 

Keith followed him, shifting the weight of the tray so he could hold it with one hand. “Whiskey for you,” he said, handing Lance a beer, “a couple shots for you,” he continued, placing a second beer in Hunk’s outstretched palm, “and a vodka-wine combo for you,” he finished, setting a third bottle in Pidge’s lap.

 

“Thank you, kind sir,” Lance said with a grin, ripping the cap off with his teeth again. Jesus Christ. 

 

“You know the lids are twist off, right?” Pidge asked, as if reading Keith’s mind. He hadn’t even realized her eyes were open. 

 

“Yeah, but that way’s more fun,” Lance said with a shrug.

 

“Worse for your teeth, you mean,” Hunk muttered. Lance shushed him.

 

“You gotta live a little, man. And if that means biting off bottle caps with your teeth, then it means biting off bottle caps with your teeth.”

 

“That’s kind of sad,” Shiro said with a frown. Lance gave him a look that said he completely agreed as he shot him finger guns around the bottle in his hand. There was nothing but the quiet sound of beers being opened and chugged and swallowed after that until Lance made a noise and choked a little, tipping his head forward as beer threatened to spill out of his mouth.

 

“Oh! Shiro. I need to ask you my questions,” Lance said after he’d swallowed his mouthful, his voice strained. 

 

“Um, okay?” Shiro said, arching a brow.

 

“Name?” Lance asked, not bothering to skip it even though he already knew the answer.

 

“Uh, Shiro?” he responded, more of a question than an answer. 

 

“Age?”

 

“Twenty-seven.”

 

“Pronouns?”

 

“He/him.”

 

“Sexuality?”

 

“Gay, I think.”

 

“Social Security Number?”

 

“90210.”

 

Lance let out an unexpected laugh, clapping his hands together and startling everyone in a five foot radius as Shiro blushed and grinned at him shyly.

 

“Finally, an answer that isn’t a phone number,” Lance giggled, clutching his beer to his chest to stabilize it.

 

Pidge cleared her throat loudly and raised a finger, giving Lance a pointed look. “May I point out for the second time that my answer was both a phone number  _ and  _ a website. That’s  _ variety.”  _

 

“Variety, my ass,” Lance snorted, before leaning back against his chair with a sigh. “One of these days, someone’s actually gonna give me their social security number.”

 

“If that happens, you have to promise to share,” Hunk said, holding out his pinky. Lance leaned forward again and hooked his slim finger around Hunk’s huge one, a grin lighting his features. 

 

“I solemnly swear. But if I go to jail, that means you’re coming too.”

 

“Fair,” Hunk shrugged, taking a swig of beer. 

 

“Alright, Shiro. Last question. Alcohol preferences?” 

 

Shiro leaned back in his chair slightly as he thought, his brow furrowed. “If I’m being honest, I don’t like drinking that much. If it happens, it’s probably a pretty special occasion. But, um… I quite like mimosas.” 

 

“See? My kind of man,” Pidge said, offering her fist for Shiro to bump. He did so with another small grin, one that was way more endearing than it had any right to be. 

 

Keith bit his lower lip, glancing between the four of them as they continued to talk amongst themselves. They got along so well, seemed to be able to talk to each other like they’d been friends for years instead of people who’d met twenty minutes ago or less. It quite honestly baffled him, the easy way they traded stories and jokes and smiles as if the very thought of doing so didn’t make panic grip tight at their lungs. Keith had always known that talking to people wasn’t necessarily his  _ strong suit,  _ but it wasn’t until now that he realized just how out of practice he seemed to be. 

 

Keith wished that everything that seemed so simple and easy for them was the same for him, but he’d knew it’d probably never be like that. But if he wanted to talk to them, wanted to interact and get to know them and possibly even become friends, all he really had to do was try.

 

Keith was about to open his mouth to invite himself into the conversation when the crowd behind them let out a particularly loud roar, making him jump. Lance grimaced at the sound, tipping his head over the back of his chair to stare at the mass of bodies behind him with a look of distaste that Keith could just barely see. 

 

“It’s really fucking… uncomfy and boring and disgusting here,” Lance said once he had raised his head again. “Do you guys wanna, like… go somewhere else?”

 

“Definite yes,” Pidge said, sitting up a little. “But where? And how?”

 

“I have a car,” Lance shrugged, patting his back pocket where Keith assumed his keys were stored. 

 

“We’ve all been drinking,” Hunk said, frowning a little. “We probably shouldn’t drive anywhere.”  

 

“He hasn’t,” Lance said with a small grin, pointing his thumb directly at Keith. He blushed a little at being called out, biting his lip. He’d hoped he hadn’t been that obvious with the second still entirely full beer clutched in his hand, but it was pretty clear that he had been. “He can drive us somewhere. I trust him with my baby.” 

 

“I would like to get out of here...” Shiro said contemplatively, looking at Keith. “Would you be willing to drive?” 

 

Keith blushed harder once he realized everyone was looking at him with a distinctly hopeful look in their eyes, wanting to escape this place almost as much as he wanted to escape the full force of their attention. He cleared his throat, giving a small nod. “I, um… Yeah. That’d be fine.”

 

“Helllll yeah,” Pidge said with a look of pure relief, flopping back on the couch again to let out a happy sigh before pushing herself to her feet, clapping her hands. “Alright, then. Let’s blow this joint.” 

 

Lance laughed as he stood as well, grabbing Keith’s hand and yanking him up after him as Hunk and Shiro did the same. 

 

“Okay so the amount of people in here is disgusting and I don’t want any of us to get lost, so we should all hold hands,” Lance said, making an example of where his hand was still clutching Keith’s. 

 

“Okay,” Shiro said, laughing softly as he took Keith’s other hand and grabbed one of Hunk’s as well. Pidge joined the line after that, looking like she was both embarrassed by and grateful for the train they’d made. 

 

“Hunk, make sure we don’t lose Pidge,” Lance said as he tugged on Keith’s arm and began to pull them forward, marching across the floor with purpose. “She’s too precious for a place like this.” 

 

Pidge let out an offended noise as Hunk laughed, tightening his grip. “You got it, Lance.” 

 

It took them less time to cross the club than Keith imagined, considering how slowly they were moving to make sure their train wasn’t ripped apart by the mob of people with no concept of personal space. By the time they reached the door, all five of them were grimacing and wrinkling their noses, happy to finally be walking out. 

 

They spilled out the door and into the parking lot, the train breaking up and reforming into a blob as they followed Lance to wherever he had parked his car, talking amongst themselves. Out here, where everything was quiet and soft and still, their noise seemed so much louder than it ever had inside and it made Keith grin just a little. As much as he liked the quiet and the soft and the still, it was nice to be surrounded by people and conversation and—dare he say it—friends. He had long since forgotten what belonging somewhere felt like, but he was quickly remembering that it was  _ wonderful. _ No matter how foreign it was or how rusty he felt, he could feel himself slowly warming to it, relaxing, melting into the dynamic of the laughter and bonding. 

 

The idea of talking and speaking up wasn’t nearly as daunting as it had seemed at the beginning of the whole evening, and it was strange. Keith had never felt so… comfortable, so at ease with a group of people before. This was the kind of outcome that Keith had absolutely never expected but always secretly hoped for. And who could blame him? Who didn’t want a good group of friends? 

 

When they finally reached Lance’s car, he proudly patted the hood proudly at the same time Pidge said, “Lance, that car is  _ shit. _ ”

 

And she was right. It absolutely was the shittiest car Keith had ever seen.

 

Lance spluttered indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest. “She is not! Blue is a beautiful lady, thank you very much.”

 

“Oh, God, you named it,” Hunk groaned, shaking his head. Keith smiled and circled the car slowly, trailing his fingers along the silver detailing that was crumbling and falling apart beneath his fingertips. It was definitely, undeniably a piece of shit, but… he could admit it had a certain kind of charm. 

 

“Are you sure it’s even safe to drive in?” Shiro asked, giving it an appraising look with a raised eyebrow. 

 

“Absolutely she is,” Lance huffed, glaring at them harmlessly.

 

“I hate it,” Pidge groaned, kicking one of the tires. 

 

“I don’t know,” Keith grinned, catching them all by surprise as he held up a hand for Lance to toss him the keys. “I kind of like it.” 

 

_ “Thank _ you, Keith,” Lance grinned back, pulling his keys from his pocket and throwing them to him, tugging the passenger side door open after Keith unlocked it. “Just be careful with her, okay? She’s fragile.” 

 

“You got it,” Keith nodded, sliding into the driver’s seat and honking the horn. “Load up! Let’s go.” 

 

The other three followed them into the car, Shiro sandwiched in between Pidge and Hunk in the backseat. He didn’t look as unhappy as Keith knew he would’ve been in that situation, and he was suddenly glad he got to drive. 

 

“Are we all buckled?” Keith asked as he started the car, adjusting the mirrors and putting on his own seatbelt.

 

“Yes, mom,” Pidge said, rolling her eyes with a small smile.

 

“Safety is no joke, Pidge,” Keith said solemnly, although he smiled at her through the mirror as he pulled out of the parking lot, Blue’s engine humming lowly. “Buckles locked or the car don’t rock.” 

 

“Oh, my God,” Lance giggled, covering his mouth with his hand. 

 

“That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard,” Hunk laughed, kicking the back of Keith’s chair slightly. 

 

“It’s the gospel truth,” Keith said, biting back another smile. “Now… where am I going, exactly?” He had already been driving aimlessly for a minute or so by then, working his way deeper into downtown, and he figured he should ask before they had to do any serious backtracking. 

 

“Um…” Lance said, rolling the window down and sticking his head out, as if that would help him decide. He pulled his head back in after a second, hands moving to open the sunroof as he gave Keith a shrug and a smile. “I don’t know. Just drive, for now.” 

 

Keith nodded, squeaking softly when Lance reached across him to roll down the windows in the back. Shiro made a pleased noise, reaching up to shove his hands out the sunroof as Pidge and Hunk put their arms out the windows on either side of them. Lance turned on the radio and turned it up loud before climbing out of his seat completely, standing on the console and sticking his upper body out of the sunroof as well, giving Shiro a high five on his way up.

 

“What happened to safety?” Pidge yelled over the wind and the music.

 

“Safety is for pussies!” Lance yelled back, hardly audible “My car, my unsafe passenger practices! Get off my dick!”

 

“Are you going to just sit there and allow this, Keith?” Pidge asked, turning to him despite the smile stretched across her lips at Lance’s response.

 

Keith shrugged and smiled and sped up, savoring the feeling of cool night air whipping his hair around his face. He could feel the beat of the music shaking his bones, could hear the laughter from the three in the backseat, could see Lance’s hands where they gripped the rim of the sunroof to keep him steady as he stood. Keith felt… free, almost, like the five of them could keep driving all night and never stop, never get bored, never travel the same road twice. Keith didn’t really care how impossible it was, how unlikely it was that he’d see any of these people again after the night was over. The way he felt right then was the best fucking feeling in the world, and he was tired of always ruining things for himself. For once in his fucking life, he was going to live in the moment, let it envelope him, and deal with tomorrow when it came. 

 

Lance whooped loudly as they went across the bridge into the heart of downtown, releasing his careful grip on the car and raising his arms high above his head. Keith laughed loudly, glancing up at him with a wide smile on his face, shaking his head in amusement. Pidge, seemingly inspired by Lance’s antics and Keith’s lack of protest, unbuckled her seatbelt and hopped up to sit on the edge of her open window, holding on to the back of the driver’s seat tightly as she did.

 

“You guys are so unsafe!” Shiro yelled over the music and wind and laughter, trying to sound scolding even though the smile on his face gave him away. 

 

“Live a little, Shiro!” Pidge said, sticking her head back in to grin at him. “It’s called having fun!” 

 

Hunk stared at Lance and Pidge where they disappeared out of the car, biting his lip. “Can I do it, too?” 

 

Keith didn’t really know why he was asking, but he nodded and shrugged. “Sure, go for it.” 

 

Hunk smiled and unbuckled as well, carefully sitting on the edge of the window and pushing his head outside. The sound of his happy laugh followed, and it made Keith smile, his chest warm and his heart full. 

 

“You wanna do it, too, Shiro?” Keith called, looking back at him in the rearview mirror. “You can probably shimmy up to Lance’s window.”

 

“I’m good with staying  _ in  _ the car, thanks!” Shiro answered, grinning back at him.

 

Keith laughed and nodded, looking around to check on the other three as he sped up again, whipping down the road with a pleased grin. He still didn’t have a destination so he simply drove, soaking in the careless feeling wrapped around him. If everything in his life could stay just like this, loud music and good people and cool, wind-blown skin, he’d never have another reason to complain as long as he lived. 

 

But with all the things he’d been through and all the things he’d learned, he knew this would never last. That’s how it always went with him; he’d find good things only to lose them again before he could blink. He’d barely known these four strangers for an hour and a half at that point, but the thought of losing them made his chest ache and his eyes sting. He just wanted someone to stay, and something about these four felt like something he couldn’t afford to lose. 

 

They were well into downtown now, which was an area Keith was intimately familiar with. He spent more time downtown than probably anywhere else, because he liked the vibes and the buildings and the way it felt to walk down the streets alone and pass all the groups of people that had someone in ways that Keith did not.

 

He took a hand off the wheel and tapped Lance’s leg, getting his attention. Lance squatted down next to him, hands clinging to the rim of the sunroof as he looked at Keith curiously, hair tousled and cheeks red.

 

“What’s up, dude?” he asked, giving Keith a small smile that made his heart flutter. 

 

“Um, there’s a donut shop a couple streets away,” Keith said, blushing slightly under his attention. “Do you wanna stop?” 

 

“Hell  _ yeah _ I wanna stop!” Lance said excitedly, smile widening. “You’re a fucking genius, man.”

 

Keith smiled to himself and focused back on driving as Lance stood up again, putting a hand up to his eyes as if he was on the lookout for the donut shop Keith had mentioned. Keith gradually slowed as they grew closer, even though they were pretty much the only ones out on the street. He parked right outside the front door as three bodies slid back into the car, their hair wild messes of tangles and their smiles wide. 

 

“Fuck, dude, that was awesome,” Hunk said, slumping in his chair as Keith turned off the car. 

 

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Shiro laughed softly, herding him out of the car. Pidge swung her legs around and jumped down from the window as Lance ruffled Keith’s hair and climbed over him to get out the driver’s side door. Keith scoffed softly with a smile and pulled the keys out of the ignition before following him out.

 

“Do you wanna, like, close the windows and stuff?” Keith asked Lance, gesturing towards the car before he locked it. 

 

“If someone stole that car, it’d be their loss,” Pidge said, raising her eyebrow as she looked it over again.

 

“I’m not worried about it,” Lance laughed, shoving Pidge’s shoulder and nodding towards the shop. “We won’t be gone long, and there’s no one else around. Blue’ll be fine.” 

 

Keith nodded and shoved the keys in his pocket as they entered the donut shop, piling into the tiny lobby. 

 

“Hey! Welcome to Doomsday Donuts,” the lady behind the counter said, giving them a warm smile. “What can I get for you?” 

 

“I’m paying!” Lance yelled immediately holding up his wallet with a wide grin. The others immediately protested, insisting that they could pay for their own. 

 

“It was my idea to go out, therefore I pay,” Lance dismissed.

 

“It was  _ my _ idea to stop and get donuts,” Keith said, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“Shut up with your logic, Keith. I’m paying, and that’s final,” Lance huffed, glaring at him. 

 

The employee behind the counter—whose name tag said ‘Shay’ and whose long, dark brown hair was pulled up to the top of her head in an incredibly intricate braid that Keith could never hope to recreate—laughed softly at their argument, leaning against the case. “Anybody ready to order?” 

 

Pidge immediately volunteered and stepped forward, giving Shay a two dollar ‘hospitality tip’ (aka the price of a donut) after she had ordered just to spite the fact that Lance was paying. Lance scowled at her as she cackled, shoving her donut in her mouth and moving to perch on one of the tables in the far corner.

 

Shiro went next, giving his order to Shay and his money straight to Lance, slipping it in his pocket when he wasn’t watching, too busy drooling over the donuts in the case. Keith hid his laugh in his hand, sharing a wink with Shiro as Shay handed him his treat. 

 

Keith went next, since Lance was still having an affair with the sheer amount of options and Hunk was stuck staring between the donuts and Shay herself like he wanted to marry both of them. Keith told Shay what he wanted and waited until Lance looked like he was thinking particularly hard to lean over the counter a bit, whispering to Shay as he handed her his money. “Give him an extra one,” Keith said quietly, jerking his head towards Lance. “Tell him it’s on the house or something, I don’t care.”

 

Shay laughed again and nodded, handing Keith his donut and putting the money in the register, waiting for Lance and Hunk to make up their minds. Keith stepped back and watched as Hunk finally approached the counter, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he told Shay what he wanted. He was somewhat surprised to find that Hunk continued the conversation after that, asking if it was a family business, if Shay helped make the donuts, what kind of recipes and methods they used, things like that. It turned into a very in depth, culinary conversation, and Keith was having trouble keeping up, which wasn’t much of a surprise. Eventually, however, Hunk seemed to realize that Lance still hadn’t ordered and flushed with embarrassment as he stepped back with a sheepish smile. 

 

Lance laughed and patted his shoulder, telling him not to worry about it. (Hunk took this moment to hastily shove two dollars down the front of Lance’s shirt, grinning and running away as Lance tried to fish it out and hand it back. Hunk told him it now had cooties since it had touched him so he didn’t want it anymore, and Lance was so offended that he dropped the issue.)

 

Keith tried to keep his own grin off his face as he watched Lance order, the surprise evident on his face as Shay handed him both the donut he’d ordered and an extra. 

 

“What’s this for?” Lance asked, accepting the second one hesitantly after he handed her enough cash to pay for all of them.

 

“For being sweet,” Shay replied easily, smiling as him as she grabbed a rag and began to wipe down the counter.

 

Lance blushed softly and smiled a little, looking down. “Oh, well… Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Shay said, laughing softly and looking over at Keith, giving him a look that was a little more knowing than he cared to admit. It made him blush a little, so he shoved a bite of donut in his mouth and stood, beckoning everyone back outside. 

 

They said their goodbyes to Shay and poured out the door again, munching on their donuts and trying to finish them before they got back in Lance’s car. Hunk finished his first, despite being second to last to order, and gave them all a sheepish grin as he announced that he was gonna head back inside for a second.

 

The four of them grinned back, half of them wiggling their eyebrows suggestively (Pidge and Lance) and half of them telling Hunk they’d wait for him in the car (Keith and Shiro). Hunk nodded and ducked back through the door, disappearing inside as the bell rang above his head. The rest of them finished their donuts and pulled the car doors open, sliding into their seats chatting idly among themselves as they waited. 

 

It wasn’t more than a minute or two later when Hunk reappeared on the sidewalk outside the shop, a more confident grin on his lips this time. 

 

“You get her number, dude?” Lance asked, hanging out of his car with a grin as Hunk made his way over. 

 

“Yeah,” Hunk nodded, laughing softly as he got in, pulling the door shut behind him.

 

“Hell yeah!” Lance cheered, laughing as Keith started the car again with a smile. Pidge and Shiro clapped Hunk on the back as he got buckled, giving him excited grins that made him duck his head shyly, laughing under his breath. “Alright, so,” Lance continued when they had all settled down, turning around to look at the three in the back with his hands clasped in front of his chest. “Now that we’re all fueled up and Hunk has a new contact, where are we headed?” 

 

“There’s a huge parking garage a few minutes away,” Pidge said, pointing deeper into downtown. “I go there a lot to skateboard, but it also works as a fantastic place for stargazing.” 

 

“Oh, that sounds fun,” Shiro said, nodding. “I haven’t gone stargazing in a long time.” 

 

“I’m down for whatever,” Hunk said, still smiling to himself as he shrugged.

 

“Well, we all know I’m a slut for stars,” Lance said, grinning as Keith as he slapped the dashboard. “Alright, stargazing. Parking garage. Kick it, Jackie Chan.”

 

Keith laughed quietly and nodded, putting the car in reverse and backing out of the parking spot before heading in the general direction Pidge had pointed. He was pretty sure he knew which parking garage she was talking about so he made his way towards it, listening to the soft conversation happening around him. 

 

“How old do you think these buildings are?” Hunk asked, looking out the window as they drove past.

 

“Mm, I don’t know. I think downtown is getting pretty old,” Pidge said, shrugging. “I’m sure some of the buildings have dates on them, but I have no idea.” 

 

“If I remember correctly, the first building was erected in the 1800’s,” Shiro told them.

 

“Why do you know that?” Lance asked, looking at him in the rearview mirror as he raised an eyebrow. 

 

“I’m studying to become an architect,” Shiro said with a shrug. “It comes up.” 

 

“Dude, that’s cool,” Hunk said, turning away from the window to face Shiro. “Is it hard?” 

 

“Um... I guess. I mean it’s pretty hard but it’s what I like doing, so I don’t really mind it.” 

 

“I can’t imagine doing something the requires that much mental power,” Hunk groaned, shaking his head. “Baking and cooking is a very mindless activity for me. It’s what I do to get  _ away  _ from thinking.”

 

“Architecture is like that, sometimes. It depends on where you are during the project, and what you’re working with. Sometimes it’s really simple, and even the math problems you’re doing almost solve themselves. But sometimes you really have to think about what you’re doing so you don’t make mistakes. You just have to kind of find a balance.”

 

“Sounds a lot like computer programming,” Pidge said, nodding. “That’s what me and my brother do.” 

 

“Family business?” Lance asked with a grin.

 

“Something like that,” Pidge grinned back. “If you ever need to hack someone or something, we’re open for business.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Lance said. “I’ve been looking for a new hacking gig.”

 

“What do you do, then, Lance?” Hunk asked curiously. 

 

“I work at an animal shelter,” Lance said, smiling a little at the thought. “It’s not anything fancy, but… I like it there.” 

 

“Does that mean we get to come in and pet the animals?” Shiro asked excitedly.

 

“I mean… You can do that anyway, but sure. If you want to come in and visit, go for it. Maybe I’ll give you special privileges.”

 

“Hell yeah! Special privileges!” Pidge cheered, pumping her fists. 

 

Lance laughed softly as he turned in his chair, facing towards Keith with a grin. “Alright, big boy. Your turn. What do you do?” 

 

Keith blushed softly at Lance’s attention and bit his lip, shrugging. “I work at a mechanic shop.” 

 

“Does that mean you can fix Blue?” Pidge asked from the backseat.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with her!” Lance protested, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“There’s a few things wrong with her,” Keith said, shooting him a small grin as he drove. Lance scoffed in offense, pouting. “But, sure. Bring ‘er in and I’ll fix her right up. May even give you a discount.” 

 

“You hear that, Lance? He can fix your dumb car. He’ll even give you a discount!” Pidge grinned, reaching forward to clap her hands on Lance’s shoulders. “Now  _ that’s  _ a fucking deal.”

 

“Fine. Fine! I’ll get Blue fixed. Eventually. Maybe. But you’re not allowed to take away her charm!” Lance said, pointing his finger in Keith’s face.

 

“I won’t,” Keith chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “I solemnly swear, her charm will stay intact.” 

 

At that point they had reached the parking garage and an odd sort of silence fell over them as Keith turned in, driving through the narrow entrance lane and entering the bottom floor of the garage. “All the way to the top?” Keith asked, driving around to the ramp that headed to the next level.

 

“All the way to the top,” Pidge confirmed, undoing her seatbelt and sliding forward to wrap her arms around the headrest of Lance’s seat, resting her chin on top of it. Keith nodded and sped up slightly, taking the corners as fast as he was comfortable as they climbed up and up and up. Lance let out a soft noise of excitement as they finally left the confines of the garage and came out onto the roof, the city stretching on for miles around them. Keith parked near one of the barrier walls and turned the car off, slipping the keys back into his pocket as he got out. 

 

“Sooooo, are we all gonna try to lay on Lance’s car or the ground or…?” Hunk asked as he got out as well, leaving the door open for Shiro to slide out after him.

 

“Nah, nah, nah,” Lance said, shaking his head and walking to the trunk, pulling it open. “Behold.” 

 

Somewhat unsurprisingly, the trunk of Lance’s car as absolutely filled to the brim. Keith could see coats and jackets and blankets and table cloths, bags and books and crumpled take out menus, all shoved inside with wondrous harmony. 

 

“Somehow I didn’t think your car could get any worse,” Pidge muttered, poking around with her fingertips. “And yet, I find myself proved wrong.”

 

“It’s  _ clean, _ ” Lance pointed, rolling his eyes. And, Keith supposed he was technically right. Everything was in neat stacks, folded and organized and paired off. It looked very similar to what Keith imagine Lance’s mind was like; neat and clean and cared for but completely and utterly random. 

 

Lance grabbed an entire stack of blankets and marched to the cleanest spot of pavement he could find, setting them down and beginning to spread them out along the ground, making a pallet of sorts for them to use. The others grabbed their own piles and followed suit, and by the time they were done they’d crafted a nest that any bird would be proud of, soft enough to forget they were laying on concrete and big enough for them to all comfortably share.

 

They didn’t talk much as they settled themselves on the blankets, kicking off their shoes and grabbing a spare blanket or jacket to use as a pillow as they laid back, eyes to the stars. They ended up in a weird circle of sorts, their heads all in the middle of the nest and their legs towards the outside, some of the longer pairs of legs stuck with their heels brushing the concrete. Keith himself was sandwiched between Lance and Shiro, a jacket shoved under his head and a strange feeling in his chest that he couldn’t name or place or recognize.

 

The silence lasted longer than Keith expected, and it made him wonder if maybe he wasn’t the only feeling… however it was he was feeling. It was hard to explain, hard to put into words, but… it was some sense of belonging, some sense of immortality and invincibility that resonated deep in his chest. It was unfamiliar, more than anything, but Keith quite liked the way it felt. 

 

The lull was, however, eventually broken by Lance, the sounds of his shuffling enough to startle Keith out of his silence-induced daze before he realized Lance had turned his head and was now looking at him. Keith turned his head and looked back, having to wait less than a second before Lance was opening his mouth.

 

“Name?”

 

The question caught Keith off guard, his brows begging to furrow in offence before his mind caught up and he had to bite back a smile instead. “Keith.”

 

“Age?”

 

“Twenty four.”

 

“Sexuality?”

 

“As gay as they come.”

 

“Social security number?”

 

“666-69-0420.”

 

“Jesus,” Shiro snorted from beside him, the others laughing softly under their breath as Lance grinned at him.

 

“Nice one. My favorite so far, I think. Alcohol preferences?”

 

“Mixed drinks, for sure. Anything with a lot of sugar that doesn’t taste like alcohol.”

 

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Hunk hummed. 

 

Keith shrugged in response, looking up at the sky with a small, happy smile stretched across his lips. He hadn’t really realized how much he wanted to answer Lance’s questions until just then. Back at the club, Keith had been tense and unhappy and wound tighter than he remembered being in a long time, and the simple act of answering Lance’s questions had seemed so unbelievably daunting that he’d been unable to do it. But now—hours later, far away from that environment and the initial fears that had kept Keith’s tongue tied, the answers slipped out of his mouth without him having to give them much thought at all. It felt nice to answer, to be included, to be a part of a group of people all brought together by pure chance or luck or destiny, and it warmed his heart to know that Lance had thought to try again. 

 

“Why do you always ask people those questions?” Pidge asked after a few minutes of silence had passed, tilting her head back to look at Lance the best she could. 

 

Lance made a noise and gave a noncommittal shrug in response, his eyes never leaving the expanse of the night sky above them. “It’s a good way to break the ice, I guess.” There was a pause after that, and Keith couldn’t tell if it was intentional or accidental, if Lance was done speaking or simply gathering his thoughts. He waited with bated breath, watching his profile and the way his blue eyes reflected the starlight as he stared straight up, blinking slowly. “I was really shy growing up and had a lot of trouble getting to know people and being friends with them even though I wanted to. Eventually my mom helped me come up with a list of questions to ask so I’d feel more confident in knowing what I was going to say and so that I’d then have things we could talk about to keep the conversation going. The questions have changed over the years, obviously, but they still come in handy. They make the social anxiety not quite so bad.”

 

“It’s a good strategy,” Pidge said after a moment, her voice soft. “But, if you don’t mind me asking, what the hell were you doing in a place like that if you have social anxiety? It seems like the  _ last  _ place you’d want to be.”

 

Keith felt the blankets shift as Lance shrugged his shoulders again. “I dunno. I like to get outside my comfort zone, sometimes. It can be pretty terrifying and awful, I guess, but it’s rewarding to see it pay off.” He was quiet for a second before suddenly turning towards Keith again, a grin stretched across his lips. “Besides, the real question is how the hell mullet over here ends up there every week.”

 

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that,” Pidge hummed. “What the fuck, man?”

 

“I don’t have a mullet,” Keith blinked, ignoring both of them as he brought a hand up to his hair.

 

“I guess you kind of do,” Hunk said, his voice contemplative. “But I didn’t know you go every week. That’s crazy.”

 

“I’ve only been once and I already never want to go again,” Shiro muttered, shaking his head. “I don’t know how you do it.”

 

Keith blushed and bit his bottom lip, shrugging. He could feel Lance still staring at the side of his face but he kept his own turned stubbornly towards the sky, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. “I guess it’s kind of a long story.”

 

“We have time,” Hunk said, the sound of his voice making it clear that it was more of a suggestion than an expectectation. If Keith  _ wanted  _ to tell the story, the others had time to listen. They had all the time in the world. 

 

And maybe it was Hunk’s voice, or the acknowledgement of time, or heat he could feel radiating from the bodies on either side of him, but Keith felt no trace of anxiety in his stomach as he opened his mouth to speak. He felt only comfort, ease, the sense of gentle, unjudging companionship that, before, he’d never quite been able to find. 

 

“I used to have these friends,” Keith began, watching the clouds drift closer and closer to obscuring his view of the stars. “And I used to have a boyfriend. They loved that place, and now that I think about it, they were exactly the kind of people that would, you know? They were… loud, and crass, and… they thought they had everything figured out, I guess. They lived fast and never looked back and never took responsibility for anything, always made decisions without thinking and thought they were better than everyone else for some reason. I knew them when I was younger so I didn’t really see it then, but they were… desperate, I guess. They were always looking for something else to fill this void that they had, so the club became kind of a… a weekly thing. They always went and got drunk and stayed out too late and tried to pick fights and get in trouble and… I was more of a bystander than anything else but I was still part of them, you know? I was supposed to agree and partake and keep my mouth shut, and every time I went out with them, that’s what I did. 

 

“But one time… one night when we went it was different, I guess. They were more worked up, more anxious to cause problems and start something. There was this girl, this stupid tiny, obviously very uncomfortable girl that was trying to get through the crowd, and she bumped into my boyfriend on accident on her way past and… before I could even really blink they had just kind of… circled around her and started like… beating on her and kicking her and shouting things at her and I couldn’t just… I didn’t want to just stand there and watch it happen, so I stepped in. I broke it up and helped the girl back to her feet and I could feel them all staring at me like… like I had done something  _ wrong, _ but I knew that I hadn’t, not really, so I kept going. By the time I had helped her clean up and get back home, they were all gone. 

 

“It wasn’t a huge loss, I guess, but… at the same time, it kind of really was. They were really the only people I knew, the only people I’d really talked to since high school, and suddenly there were just… all gone. I knew it was better, knew that I’d be better off without them, but… I guess I wasn’t really sure that was true. I’ve always been kind of anti-social and I’ve never made friends very easy, and I’d just lost everyone important to me, all at once. So I decided that I would just... keep coming back. And… I still do. I go back there every week, same day, same time, stupidly hoping that one day I’ll catch a glimpse of them again and maybe fix what happened. And it’s stupid because I’m  _ older  _ now and I understand the whole thing better and I don’t even  _ want  _ to fix it, but… I just keep going back, ‘cause I guess I’ve just got nothing better to do.”

 

It was silent after Keith’s words finally came to a stop, nothing but night sky and warmth and that  _ feeling _ that came with admitting things he hadn’t said out loud in a very long time. 

 

Then Pidge said, “Damn, Keith,” and Hunk let out a small, disbelieving sound as he shook his head and Shiro smiled at him and Lance reached out and grabbed his hand and Keith could help but let out a soft giggle because he was  _ happy,  _ and it felt good. He didn’t feel that same sense of crushing despair that came with remembering that story, didn’t feel hopeless and lost and pathetic when he admitted that he was alone and he had been for years. He just felt lighter, felt unburdened, felt as if that was the last time he’d let that time in his life have any sway over him, have any effect on the way he felt and the things he did. 

 

He hadn’t expected to tell them about it but he didn’t regret doing it, not with Lance’s warm fingers curled around his own and the sound of Hunk’s voice washing over him as he spoke up, sitting up a little to make sure he could look at Keith. “Well, I think I can pretty confidently speak for myself and the others when I say that, if you want, we can be your new group of friends.” 

 

“Yeah,”  Pidge said, copying Hunk and propping herself up on her elbow, looking down at Keith with a lopsided grin. “Fuck those old guys, you know? You’ve been torturing yourself over them for too long. It’s time you tried something new.”

 

“It might be cheesy,” Shiro said from beside him, offering him a kind smile. “But maybe it’s only fitting that the place that took everything from you eventually gave you something back.”

 

“Yeah,” Lance chimed in, squeezing his hand as Keith looked over at him. “Shiro’s right. Everyone deserves a good group of friends, and you’ve been going back to that place hoping to find your old one, but the universe finally decided to reward your dedication and gave you this one, instead. Pretty nice upgrade, right?”

 

“Right,” Keith laughed, biting his lip and nodding. “It’d… It’d be really nice to have a group of friends like you guys.”

 

“Well, it’s settled, then,” Hunk grinned, settling back down on the nest. “Best friends forever, starting now.”

 

“We’ve gotta get fuckin’ bracelets or something,” Pidge said, rolling over on her stomach and resting her chin in her palms, kicking her feet up behind her. “And, great news, Keith! This means you never have to go back to that stinky, rotten bar ever again!”

 

“Oh, good,” Keith said, breathing a genuine sigh of relief at the thought. A lifetime without ever stepping foot in that place again? Perfectly fine with him. 

 

“We should do that establishment a favor and burn it to the ground,” Shiro muttered, getting four various noises of agreement in return. 

 

“Why were you there, Shiro?” Lance asked. “We know why Keith, Pidge and I were there, but what about you?”

 

“I don’t know why Pidge was there,” Hunk protested, shaking his head.

 

“Oh, right,” Lance said. “That was before you got there. Don’t worry, we can go around the circle and share. But right now, it’s Shiro’s turn.”

 

“Ah, well,” Shiro said, biting his bottom lip. “You may remember me mentioning the fact that I only drink on special occasions.” He paused and got four nods in return, all of them keeping quiet and waiting patiently for him to continue. “Well, my story is similar to Keith’s, I guess, and… to make a long story short, when I was fresh out of high school I was young and dumb and thought I could marry my high school sweetheart and make it all work but ended up fucking it all up and leaving, instead. So every year, when the anniversary of our divorce rolls around, I go out and find somewhere as miserable as I feel and normally get drunk and then go home. This year turned out a bit different, though.”

 

“You don’t have to tell us everything, or  _ anything, _ but… were you happy? With them, I mean? Your ex?” Keith asked softly, caught up on the self-deprecating note in Shiro’s voice that underlined otherwise fairly convincing nonchalance. It sounded almost like Shiro blamed himself for what happened, thought he’d done something wrong by walking away, and Keith just… wanted to know if Shiro thought the decision had been justified. 

 

“I… For a while, yeah. For a few years it was really, really good. But after that… not so much.”

 

“Did you leave because you weren’t happy?” Keith continued.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I did. We… We tried to fix it, quite a few times, but… it just wasn’t really working out, I guess. And it felt like the right thing to do, and deep down I know that it was, but… it was supposed to make me happier, and since then I haven’t heard from him and I’m lonely all the time and I miss having him because he was my best friend and he understood me and was always there for me and... it was supposed to make me happier but it  _ didn’t, _ so sometimes I wonder if it really was the right thing.”

 

“I think it was the right thing,” Keith offered, unsure if Shiro really wanted his opinion or not but figuring it couldn’t hurt to reassure him. “You can only try things so many times before it becomes kind of obvious they’re not going to work, and… you might not be happy now, but… since you’re not trapping yourself in that situation that’s always going to be the same, there’s nothing stopping you from being happy in the future, you know?”

 

“Yeah,” Shiro said after a few moments, looking up at the stars with a small smile. “You’re right. Thanks, Keith.”

 

“No problem, Shiro,” Keith said softly, a smile of his own stretched absentmindedly across his lips. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

 

“Right,” Shiro smiled, nodding. “We’re going around the circle, right? Which means Pidge, it’s your turn.”

 

“Well, as touching as all of your stories have been, mine is nothing like that,” Pidge said, shrugging. “I was just there because of my brother. He decided I spend too much time either at home or at school, so he forced me into his car and dumped me in that hellhole and said he’d be back in no sooner than two hours.”

 

“Are you close with him?” Hunk asked. “Your brother?”

 

“Matt? Yeah, definitely,” Pidge said, nodding. “Me and him are best friends, have been since we were little. Our parents’ worst nightmare, as people like to say. We’ve never really been those siblings that fight over everything and never get along and hate each other. We just… work really well together and enjoy spending time together so we do everything together, and that’s how it’s always been.” She paused for a second, biting her lip as she let her head tip to the side, eyeing a particular spot on the blankets. “He’s the one who gave me my nickname, actually. Pidge. My parents always called me Katie and so did everyone else, but Matt didn’t want to be like everyone else, never has. He wanted something to set him apart from everyone else, so he started calling me Pidge. I still have no idea where it came from, but… it means a lot to me, you know? And used to, he was the only one I’d ever let call me that, but now that he’s graduated college and gotten a job and started his life in the real world, I hardly ever get to see him anymore, so letting everyone call me Pidge just… reminds me of him, I guess. Makes me feel closer to him.” 

 

“I call bullshit,” Lance said after a second, the wistful sound of Pidge’s voice not lost on any of them. “Your story is sweet, too. I feel the same way about my siblings. Now that I’m older and don’t live at home I don’t have time to go and visit as much as I could before, and… I miss them. A lot.” 

 

“I’m an only child,” Keith said, shrugging. “But I wish I had siblings. I wish I had any family at all.”

 

“You don’t have a family?” Pidge asked, wrinkling her brow curiously. 

 

“Yeah. My mom died giving birth to me and my dad died when I was eight fighting a fire, so I went into foster care and no one ever adopted me because I was… angry and bitter and admittedly a lot to handle, and then I turned eighteen and I’ve been on my own ever since.”

 

“That’s really sad,” Hunk said, frowning. “I can’t imagine life without my family. I wasn’t very close with my brother growing up, since he was a lot older than me and he thought I was annoying, but he’s got a couple kids now and we’ve gotten a lot closer since they were born.” 

 

“My family lives in Japan,” Shiro said, a sad look of longing passing over his face at the words. “No siblings, just my mom and dad. I haven’t seen them in a few years, now. Plane tickets to Japan aren’t cheap, and neither are student loans, and I just… haven’t managed to visit in quite a while.” 

 

“That must be hard,” Pidge said, a small frown on her face. 

 

“It is,” Shiro said. “But I know it’s not forever, and once I get a steady job I’ll have enough money to go visit whenever I want, so it helps me get through.” 

 

“Positive thinking goes a long way,” Hunk said, nodding. “It ties into why I was at the bar, kind of.” 

 

“Ooh, tell us more,” Lance said encouragingly, rolling over to lay on his side and prop his head up with his elbow so he could see all of them better, keeping a tight grip on Keith’s hand as he did.

 

“I just moved here a few days ago,” Hunk said with a shrug. “I was going to school a few towns over, mostly because it was close to my family and it was where my girlfriend was going. But then she broke up with me and all of our friends chose her instead of me and the school cancelled its culinary program due to lack of funding, so I took it as a sign and found a new school and transferred over and just decided to keep going instead of letting it hold me back.”

 

“Why were you at the bar, then?” Keith asked.

 

“Looking for friends,” Hunk answered, shrugging again. “Poor choice of location in hindsight, but I guess not really, considering I met all of you.” 

 

“Well, look at us,” Pidge grinned softly. “Bunch of lost souls, comin’ together all teenage movie style. Isn’t it perfect?”

 

“Yeah,” Lance agreed, eyes skimming over all of them before landing on Keith and lingering, a warm smile overtaking his face. “It’s pretty perfect.” 

 

Keith met his gaze and blushed softly, giving him a shy smile in return as he held his eyes. A content sort of silence fell over them as they laid there, lost in their thoughts or their heads or their feelings, drowning in the overwhelming sense of belonging and understanding that had blossomed from the conversation they’d just had. Keith had never really had a family before, didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like, but he figured this was it. Families were supposed to understand you, supposed to support you, supposed to make you feel like you mattered, if to no one else then to them, and that was what  _ this _ felt like, this group of five strangers that had come together in the strangest of circumstances at the most trying of times. 

 

They stayed there in silence for who knows how long, the others doing whatever it was that they were doing (Keith couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to them when Lance was making him feel so… weird) as Lance and Keith just kept looking at each other, soft smiles on their faces that probably said too much as their hands stayed clasped together in between them, keeping them warm. 

 

But then Pidge broke the silence by saying she was cold, and Hunk chimed in with a declaration that he was five seconds away from dying of hunger, and then they were laughing and standing up and slipping on their shoes and gathering up the nest to carry it back to Lance’s car, shoving it in the trunk and just barely managing to close it before they were piling back in their seats and hitting the road. 

 

This time they drove with the windows up, the music low in the background, the unspoken understanding between them that they didn’t want to go their separate ways, didn’t want to say goodbye, instead wanted to stay together and spend the whole night rooted by each other’s sides. 

 

So Keith drove them to an all-night grocery store and parked the car, yawning a little as he turned it off and opened his door.

 

“Ah, ah, ah, none of that, mister,” Lance tutted, gently patting Keith’s cheek before sliding out of the car, the others following close behind. “We’re gonna stay up all night! No yawning allowed.”

 

“All night?” Keith asked skeptically, raising his eyebrows. “What are we gonna do?”

 

“We’re gonna go back to my place and watch movies,” Lance declared. It wasn’t something they’d agreed upon, wasn’t something even mentioned until just then, but Lance received no protests or complaints as they ambled across the parking lot to the entrance of the store, probably silently grateful for an excuse to stay together like Keith was. 

 

“What kinds of movies?” Pidge asked, an excited grin on her face as she skipped through the automatic grocery store doors and saw the aisles upon aisles of snacks and treats that awaited her. 

 

“Any kinds of movies,” Lance said. “I have a whole collection in my apartment, plus there’s always Netflix and illegal websites. We could, at least in theory, watch anything you want.” 

 

“That sounds like an excellent way to spend the night,” Pidge nodded, turning to look at them as she clapped her hands together in front of her. “But first, food. I’ll see you fuckers at the checkout counter.”

 

And then she was gone, all but sprinting through the store as she explored the options, the employee behind the counter giving her a weary look as she began snatching things off the shelves. 

 

Shiro gave the man a sheepish wave, the others following Pidge in a much calmer fashion, although still probably with much more energy than the employee would’ve liked. But it wasn’t their fault, okay? How were they supposed to  _ not _ get excited over the array of delicacies such as Cheez-its and Gold Fish and Hostess cakes dotted across the shelves? They were simply slaves to their desires, and by extension, their stomachs. 

 

By the time they were all done shopping and checking out, Keith was pretty sure they’d spent almost thirty dollars between them, just on junky foods and drinks that would most definitely be gone by morning, especially if they were staying up all night.  

 

They piled back in Lance’s car and Lance gave Keith directions to his apartment, the other three talking quietly amongst themselves in the back as they drove down the desolate streets, away from downtown and towards the more isolated part of town that was mostly comprised of the college campus and student living, both official campus dorms and independent apartments and houses that were advertised at college students since they were so close to campus. 

 

They eventually came to a stop outside an apartment complex a few streets away from campus, Keith turning off the car as the rest of them spilled out into the parking lot and grabbed their grocery bags full of snacks, following Lance as he plucked his keys from Keith outstretched palm and led them up a few flights of stairs, eventually stopping in front of a door and unlocking it, letting them inside. 

 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Lance said with a grin, spinning in a circle with his arms out as he walked farther inside, letting the others trail after him. Keith bit his lip and looked around, smiling at the little details and decorations he could see that immediately screamed Lance. Keith didn’t even know him that well, not really, but he could tell this apartment was something he was happy with, proud of. 

 

The thought made Keith’s chest feel even warmer as he followed Lance inside and got the “five second tour” (which was composed of Lance standing in the living room and pointing), because it meant that Lance liked the four of them enough to invite them into his space, meant that Lance trusted them enough to let them invade the place he called home. It meant that he was comfortable letting them in, wasn’t scared of them learning things about him and sticking around for a while.

 

And the fact that all of them had followed him inside, that they were now spread out across the living room arguing over which movie to watch first, meant that maybe, just  _ maybe _ all of the crazy things that had happened over the past couple of hours, all the conversations and smiles and feelings and realizations, meant as much to the rest of them as it did to Keith. 

 

And that made him feel good. It made him feel  _ happy, _ so happy that he sat there with a stupid grin on his face and didn’t even care when Lance caught him, giving him a glance that was all curiosity and amusement and no judgement or criticism. It made him so happy that he couldn’t even find it in him to be nervous when Lance came to sit beside him, closer than was strictly necessary, and couldn’t find it in him to complain when they eventually settled on a movie he’d seen a million times already. 

 

It didn’t matter what they did, didn’t matter what they watched, didn’t matter how many kernels of popcorn Pidge wasted trying to get one of them to stick in Keith’s hair, because they were all together and they were already the best friends that Keith had ever had and Keith was  _ happy,  _ so much happier than he ever thought he would be. 

 

Most of the food was gone by the end of the first movie, and Keith and Lance ended up spooning on the couch by the end of the second, and barely ten minutes into the third eyelids had started drooping and the decision was made that maybe they didn’t have to stay up all night and they could make some beds instead. 

 

So Keith reluctantly slid out from Lance’s warm embrace and got up and helped Lance gather blankets and pillows from all over his apartment to build another nest in the floor, eyeing it skeptically once it was done and asking how in the world it was going to fit all five of them.

 

“It’s not,” Lance said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His answer made Keith frown, because obviously Lance had a bed he could sleep in, but he just thought that Lance was gonna stay in there with them so they could be all together like he secretly (not so secretly) wanted. And Lance could apparently easily decipher the look on his face as he gave Keith a small, fond smile and tapped the tip of his nose with his finger, his expression alone enough to make relief flood through him. “You and I are sleeping on the couch.”

 

Oh. Right. So they could cuddle, like they’d been doing earlier before being interrupted by the proposal that they all go to bed. Keith blushed and nodded, helping Pidge gather the copious amounts of food trash and throw it away before they all made their way back to the living room and settled into their respective beds, Shiro squished between Pidge and Hunk again as he had been in the car and Keith and Lance spread out on the couch, Lance pressed up against the back with Keith pressed up against his front. 

 

It was silent for a few moments before Pidge’s quiet, “Goodnight,” rang out across the room, and Keith smiled as the rest of them returned it, nothing but the sounds of shuffling and readjusting following until eventually it was completely still, completely quiet. 

 

Keith had never fallen asleep pressed against someone like this, feeling their warmth through the thin material of his t-shirt, but he definitely couldn’t say he didn’t like it. Lance was warm and soft and the feeling of his breath tickling the hair at the base of his neck was comforting in a surprising, unfamiliar way. And then, of course, there was the steady beat of Lance’s heart he could almost feel echoing alongside his own in his chest, reminding him what a wonderful thing it was to be alive. 

 

Because for a long time, Keith had forgotten. The universe had given Keith year after year of bad luck and misfortune and struggles he had to find a way to work through, and it had been constantly taking and never once giving, until now. Until Pidge and Hunk and Lance and Shiro, until his fateful night at the club that had always represented something twisted and unpleasant and was now the starting point of something Keith was sure would be great. Keith had forgotten what it meant to be alive, what it meant to be happy, what it meant to be human, and, more than anything else, this night had served as a reminder. 

 

So he fell asleep with a smile on his face, something he wasn’t sure he had  _ ever _ done, because for once in his life he’d found something he knew he wouldn’t have to fight to keep, wouldn’t lose in the blink of an eye. 

 

And when he woke up in the morning, still cuddling Lance but fully on top of him now, that smile was still there, soft and sweet and sure.

 

He laid with Lance until he woke up on his own, letting his eyes roam along the details and features of his face over and over and over again, memorizing them and making sure the image was ingrained in his mind. And sure, a few of the others were awake, too, and sure, they both had pretty atrocious morning breath, but Keith didn’t hesitate before sitting up and straddling Lance’s waist once he knew he was awake, leaning over him as his hair spilled over his shoulders to tickle his cheeks and cupping Lance’s own cheeks with either hand. “Good morning.”

 

“Good morning,” Lance returned, smiling at Keith with this soft, sleepy, warm look in his eyes that made Keith shiver. Keith’s smile spread into a grin, his thumbs rubbing slowly along Lance’s cheekbones as his mind took him on a whirlwind tour of everything that had happened the night before, the fluttery feeling in his chest unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

 

“I had fun last night,” he whispered, hoping Lance understood just how much he meant it by the look on his face, the sound of his voice. 

 

“I’m glad,” Lance smiled, turning his head a little to the side so he could press a gentle kiss to Keith’s palm, seemingly unaware of the way it made Keith’s heart lurch. “You seemed like you could use it.”

 

Keith looked down at him, barely taking a second to think before he leaned forward and gently pressed their lips together, warmth spreading through his body slowly as Lance kissed him back. In his head, he knew the kiss was short, a sweet, gentle press of lips that could have easily gone unnoticed by the others in the room. But in his heart it felt like the answer to everything, like the greatest thing that had ever happened to him and the greatest thing that could  _ keep _ happening to him, over and over and over again, a million times on a million days. He pulled back after a moment, not going far as he rested their foreheads together, eyes still gently closed as he remembered what Lance had said before the kiss. “Yeah,” he smiled, strangely breathless, an unbidden smile stretched across his lips. “I really needed it.”  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! i hope u enjoyed ,, comments and kudos v appreciated <3
> 
> come scream abt vld with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/professionlmess) if u want


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